VERY PECULIAR LETTERS.

Greymouth Evening Star, Volume XXXI, 17 January 1901, Page 4

VERY PECULIAR LETTERS.

Perhaps it was the same parents who sent to a Health Officer this brief note—- " Dear Sir,—l beg to tell you that my child, aged eight months, is suffering from measles as required by Act of Parliament."

A lady in the Lake District, having sent an order for a joint of mutton to the butcher, who usually supplied the wants of her household, received the following note in reply : —■ " Dear Mem, —I am sorry I have not killed myself this week, but you can have a leg off my brother.—Your affectionate Butcher."

A literal copy of a letter sent to a parish clerk is rather quaintly amusing:— "Mister, mi wief is dede, and wants to be berriet, digg a grav for her, and she shall come and be berriet two-morrow at wan o'clok ; you know where to digg it, by the other wief, but let it be dip."

Two brothers were working in a stone quarry in the Highlands. One of them hurt his leg, and his brother sent home this filial letter : " Dear mother, —Here's a letter frae Donald, your son, Puir Sandy's broke him's lioch in quarry hole. Wishing yc a' the same. Post haste, and away she goes."

A farmer once wrote to a distinguished scientific agriculturalist, to whom he felt under obligation for introducing a new variety of swine : " Respected Sir, —I went yesterday to the cattle fair; I found several pigs of your species. There was a great variety of beasts, and I was very much astonished at not seeing you there."

Popular authors, it is said, are often the recipents of communications from persons of whom they perhaps know absolutely nothing, requesting that they may be favoured with a free copy of the author's latest book. A case in point was that in which a certain novelist not unknown to fame, received from a lady an unstamped letter asking the loan of his book on the plea that she could not obtain it at the booksellen in her town. His reply was worded as follows :

" Madam,—ln tho town where you reside there appears to be a lack of all sorts of things which are easily procurable elsewhere, not only my recent work in all the book shops in which it is applied for, but also the postage stamps for the letters, I have in my possession, it is true, the book you desire to obtain, and also the stamps to pay its carriage, but, to my regret, I am without the necessary string to make it into a parsel- If you can supply me with a piece I am at your service.

A Parisian millionaire onee wrote a celebrated dramatic author : " Honoured Sir, —I wish very much to ally my name with yours in the creation of a dramatic work. Will you be so kind as to write a comedy of which I shall compose one or two lines, so that I may be mentioned in the title; I will bear the entire pecuniary expense, so that I may divide the glory." The author, who was vain even to conceit, replied : " Sir, —I regret that I cannot comply with your modest request. It is not in accordance with my ideas of religion or propriety that a horse and an ass should be yoked together." To which the millionaire quickly responded : " Sir, —I have received your impertinent letter. How dare you call me a horse ?"

The following letter was sent by a man to his son at college:— " My dear son, —I write to send you some new socks which your mother has just knit by cutting down some of mino. Your mother sends you ten pounds, without my knowledge, and for fear you would not spend it wisely, I have kept back half, and only send five. Your mother and I are well except that your sister has got the measles, which we think would have spread among the other girls if Tom had not had them before, she i 3 tho only one left. I hope you do honour to my teachings; if you don't you are a donkey, and your mother and myself are your affectionate parents."

A young Irishman in want of a fivepound note wrote to his uncle as follows: " Dear uncle.—lf you could see how I blush for shame while I am writing you would pity me. Do you know why ? Because I have to ask for a few pounds, and do not know how to express myself. It is impossible for me to tell you. I prefer to die, "I send you this by messenger, who will wait for an answer. Believe me, my dearest uncle, your most obedient and affectionate nephew. P.S. Overcome with shame for what I have written. I have been running after tho messenger in order to take the letter from him, but I cannot catch him up, Heaven grant that something may happen to stop him, or that this letter may get lost." The uncle was naturally touched, but was equal to the emergency. He replied as follows:

" Dear Jack. — yourself and blush no longer. Providvnco has b 3ard your prayers. The messenger lost your letter.--Your affectionate Uncle."

Here is a copy of a letter from the American litoratem*, T. B. Aldrick, to Professor Morse, who had just favoured him with an illegibly-written epistle : "My Dear Morse, —It was very pleasant for me to get a letter from you the other day. Perhaps I should have found it pleasanter if I had been able to decipher it. I did not, however, succeed in mastering anything beyond the date (which I knew) and the signature (which I guessed at). There is a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours—;it never grows old, it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every morning, • There's that letter of Morse's. I haven't read it yet. I think I'll take another shy at it to-day, and maybe 1 shall be able in the course of a few years to make out what he means by those t's that look like w's, those i's that have no eyebrows.' " Other letters are read and thrown away and forgotten, but yours are kept for ever—unread. One of them will last a reasonable man a life-time.—Admir-ingly yours, "T. B. Aldrick"